


Dragonkin

by xThirteen



Series: Dragonkin [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dragons, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xThirteen/pseuds/xThirteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skylar and Zevran, two young elves in the castle city of Rialto, have been friends since birth. However after getting themselves into trouble one too many times, they must leave their home city and part ways on paths that will change their lives forever, but perhaps they will meet again one day. Before they team up with the two Gray Wardens to battle the blight, Skylar becomes a dragon rider and Zevran an Antivan Crow.</p><p>Chapter One: Skylar pays a hard price for a day of fun and mischief with Zevran.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Insuboordinates

**Author's Note:**

> Thirteen here! Okay, a little disclaimer about this fanfiction. I’m going to try to stay as true to canon as possible, but there is one thing I need to adjust for the sake of relationship building. In Dragon Age, it’s said that Zevran was recruited to the Crows at the age of seven. In THIS fanfic, he won’t be recruited until the age of 13! I don’t anticipate this changing much of anything, but thank you for bearing with me!

  
Chapter One: Insubordinates

_Maybe you were all faster than me,_  
We give each other up so easily,  
These silly little wounds will never mend,  
I feel so far from where I’ve been.

 

My first memory as a child was a rat, poking its hungry snout over the edge of the basket I was swaddled in for a nap, foul whiskers twitching as it searched for an easy meal. And what meal easier than an elven slave, left to sleep on a countertop while the nanny scrubbed out the laundry. Nobody would bat an eyelash if I went missing and certainly not if there was barely a body to show for it- they were always thorough. The vermin in these dank basements had claimed more than their fair share of unattended infants, and when the servants were expected to do their duties at the same pace as without a child, it was not unheard of for one to go missing when a nanny turned her gaze for too long. Though I had just mastered the basics of walking, I still remembered the awful stench, and those hungry, watering red eyes, fixed on me as it began to stealthily climb into my basket. I began to cry, which made the rat pause only for a second. Then I saw him, a flash of blond hair shooting by the counter. 

There was a swishing sound, then a thud, and then the rat was suddenly gone. The nanny screamed and immediately seized my basket up from the counter, backing away from the creature that I could now see was stuck fast to the wall of the laundry room.

“Zevran! Maker, what have I told you about those knives! You’ll get my ears cut off, you will!”

“But Nan, it was gonna eat her!”

There was a long pause during which I like to think Nan was frowning in a way that said “I know you’re right, so I can’t really scold you much about it,” though I couldn’t see her. Still she nattered for a few more minutes about the dangers of servants having weapons- especially the butcher’s finest filleting knives- while the young Zevran (who was barely four at the time) peeked into my basket to have a look at me. 

“Hello there!” he chirped, his amber eyes sparkling as he shoved his face entirely too close to mine. I wriggled my arms out of my blankets to push him away, though I still managed to gush a response.

“Hai.”

“Didja hear that Nan! She said hi!”

“Well why wouldn’t she? Skylar’s only a couple years younger than you. Pretty soon I’m sure she’ll be just as much of a handful as you are. Now run along home before your master has my hide for keeping you here all afternoon!”

“Maybe one day we’ll be friends, Skylar!” he said quickly before waving and skipping off toward the door.

Perhaps “accomplices” might have been the more appropriate phrase to use. 

 

From that point on our relationship was what some might describe falling down the stairs to be like- loud, fast, chaotic, often painful. We were havoc in the neighborhood, always shirking our work because let’s be honest, who could keep track of a couple thousand elves all doing chores throughout an entire village. My mother, one of the housemaids for Castle Rialto, tried her best to mold me into a good working girl but with friends like Zevran it was hard to keep one’s nose clean. Every morning just before sunrise when the rest of the elves were getting ready to report for duty, Zevran would appear through a crack in the castle exterior that had long since been forgotten, making sure nobody watched me steal through the foggy dawn to my temporary freedom. The brothel that he lived at was really not much for a strict upbringing and I was jealous of his ability to do what he pleased without receiving a beating if he was caught. As I got older I wondered why we never just ran off. We certainly could have taken care of ourselves, accomplished thieves that we were, even so young. I bet we could have run all the way to Ferelden if we wanted to. Yet we stayed in our miserable little village with it’s miserable little slaves, working for miserable little people who consorted with miserable little whores. I guess things weren’t as bad for us as they were for the obedient ones, who resented our freedom and gall. It certainly taught me at a young age that life wasn’t fair and if you followed the rules you’d be just as miserable as the rest of them.

Eight years had passed since the first day I met him, and at this point I couldn’t imagine my life without him. I was a stringy elf with an awful human name and a long, rust colored braid that hung down her back, while he was the town charmer with his cut jawline and sparkling eyes. We were essentially never apart, save for the days I was snagged by the scruff of my neck trying to sneak out of the castle early in the morning. Today was no different. The sun arced high in the sky, lancing off of the gold and silver adornments of the Antivan folk parading out into the marketplace for gossip and wares. Nobody paid any mind to two young elves sitting criss-cross applesauce on the balcony of a whorehouse. A sign emblazoned with red and gold letters reading “THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT” along with rude drawings hung beneath where we were perched, and with our lean, underfed bodies we almost looked like elven gargoyles. Even now my eyes glittered hungrily as Zevran produced a succulent looking fruit from under his arm and offered it to me before playfully snatching it back.

“You’d think by now some of my quick reflexes would have worn off on you,” he laughed, a musical tune that permeated the sounds of... other things coming from the windows behind us. 

“Aw c’mon Zev, they haven’t fed me anything but cornmeal in a week! Just one bite?” I pleaded, tears welling into my eyes. If there was one thing that worked every time, it was crocodile tears. 

With a heavy roll of his eyes that indicated he knew exactly what I was doing, he pulled a knife off his belt and began to saw the orange in half. I began to salivate as I watched his fingers drip with the juices that he then licked off the knife. Elves that worked in the castle weren’t even allowed to think about weapons, but Zevran always seemed to have at least a blade or two on him. I was terribly jealous, but he always assured me that living in a brothel made having a dagger a necessity at times. Handing me the bigger piece of the fruit, he pocketed his knife again and held his half out to me for a cheers. 

“You’re the best!” I barely blurted before shoving my entire face into the sweet orange. He laughed at me as I buried my head into his shoulder. Zevran always smelled so... comforting. Like fresh leather and spices from the marketplace with the faintest hint of the brothel’s finest perfume. Failing to avoid the flecks of fruit juice flying everywhere as I devoured my meal, he pointed down the street to a stall at the corner of the market.

“Remember that one, right there,” he explained, finally taking a bite of his half of the fruit as I licked my rind clean. “Anyone can nick something from that guy, even you.”

“Even me?” I asked incredulously. He had always been a better thief than I had, but the penalty for stealing in the castle was... heavy. He nodded, and I smirked at him. “I bet you I could snag half a sack of dried meat off the stall around the corner without anyone batting an eye.”

“Let’s see it then!”

We stood up and peeked over the side of the building at the mark, my nerves drowned out by the roaring of my stomach. I always had terrible nerves before committing any sort of crime but Zev seemed to do it so easily, no anxiety visible in the bright smile that crossed his face. I bit my lower lip and betrayed my fear for just a moment, to which Zevran responded by slipping a gloved hand in mine and giving it a squeeze.

“You don’t have to, you know. I was just kidding.”

I frowned at him and jerked my hand quickly from his grasp, pulling my hood up over my head. I certainly wasn’t going to come across as a coward to my best friend, whether he was older than me or not. With a huff I swung myself down from the balcony like a monkey, landing with a POOT in the awning of the brothel before sliding down to street level. The streets were packed with traders and merchants all yelling, clamoring, buying, selling, kicking up dust as they tried to cross off everything on their list of duties for the day. The easy part was sneaking in and out of the crowd, remaining virtually invisible under the elbows of those who would sooner kick an elf than acknowledge one. I could feel Zevran’s gaze boring into my back as I approached the butcher’s stall. I hung against an alleyway half bathed in shadow, drool dripping down my chin at the racks of dried jerky that hung from the canopy of the stall, the fresh meat on piles of ice that could feed my family for a week. 

Slowly, inexorably I inched forward, weaving in and out of robes and armor as I crept toward the merchant’s turned back. My heart was hammering against my ribcage, sweat beading on my temple that had nothing to do with the heat. There was an off white sack overflowing with what couldn’t fit on the counter of the stall, glinting like a diamond under the armpit of the butcher. It was certainly more than a half sack of scraps. Zevran would be so pleased if I managed to nick it. 

Inching, crawling, bathed in anonymity, I was at the edge of the stall. The merchant’s back was turned and the customers were too busy yelling at each other to notice my tiny little frame. My hand was a blur as it reached out and snagged the bag, stuffing it under my robes as I disappeared into the crowd again. I could practically feel Zevran whooping on top of the balcony as I made my way through the crowd with the sack over my shoulder, creating a hunch in my-

ULP! 

“Where do you think you’re going, knife-ear?”

Something jerked me back by the hem of my robe and I was certain my heart plummeted to my feet. I turned around to see the looming figure of a guard holding fast to the back of my clothes, eyeing the lump in my back suspiciously. This was it, I was done for. I began to stammer as I searched for a response.

“Just bringing the laundry back to my mother, sir,” I replied in my best cute elven girl voice. He blinked at me in disbelief.

“You’ve got the markings of a castle slave, they don’t do their laundry up there?” he asked suspiciously.

“Our washboard broke this morning, so we’re having Corinna clean our linens until we get a new one.”

“You’re telling me that they couldn’t have sent you to simply buy a new washboard instead of wasting time getting your laundry done in the city?” he asked. I was beginning to lose my nerve as I opened and shut my mouth with surprise. The butcher down the street was beginning to look around and I knew I barely had but a few seconds before he would discover his sack had been stolen.

“I-I think that...”

“There you are!” a god-sent, familiar voice called.

There was Zevran, trotting through the crowd with a glove in his hand. As I sighed with relief it seemed as if the sun shone down on the spot where he walked. Acting as if he’d been running for quite some time (or perhaps not acting at all, judging by how quickly he’d made it down to me), he thrust the glove out at me before nodding respectfully at the guard.

“You left this at Corinna’s, not particularly useful if you only have one, yes?” he said, placing it in my hand. I noticed that the gloves he’d been wearing earlier were now gone. “She thanks you for your business!”

“So you’re working for the washwoman now, are you?” the guard asked Zevran with disdain, wrinkling his nose. “I suppose it’s better than slinking around the whorehouse all the time, although I don’t really see any of your kind climbing up the social ladder too far around here.”

With that, he warned us to stay out of trouble and turned on his heel to address the concerns of the butcher, but by the time the guard reached the stall we were already atop the brothel’s balcony, tearing into the sack of meat with wide eyes. 

“You really saved my neck back there Zev, thank you so much!” I gushed, expecting him to be pleased with me. Instead I was met with a severe frown.

“You shouldn’t have stolen so much! That butcher knows his product is gone, and now he’s reporting to the guard that just caught you in the act!” Zevran snapped angrily, making me physically recoil. He never raised his voice at me, and it was more startling than being caught by the guard. “When he goes back to talk to Corinna and finds out that the castle didn’t have any laundry done, you’re in deep trouble!”

Tears welling in my eyes at both his reaction and the gravity of what had just happened, I gripped a piece of dried ram’s meat between my shaking fingers as I watched Zevran breath heavily. I couldn’t tell if he was worried or upset or angry, so I kept quiet and stared at my feet. There was a long silence during which we both munched on the chewy strips of meat, our stomachs glad though our minds were not. Finally he cut his eyes at me and spoke up.

“You had me worried sick when I saw you grab the bag, and even more so when that guard almost caught you. You need to be more careful.”

“You’re never careful!” I finally retorted, upset with the fact that he was being so mean. 

“I know what I’m doing.”

“But what if something happens to you?” 

“I don’t care about that, I care if something happens to you.” 

I paused with my mouth hanging open, hands halfway reaching into the bag for another sliver of meat. He avoided my gaze and instead ripped a chunk off of his own jerky, chewing on a bit of fat. 

“Why would you...?” I started, but he cut me off.

“Just forget I said anything, okay? Quit taking risks, that’s the point of the lecture.”

There was another long pause during which we both finished the pieces of jerky we were chewing on, staring out at the setting sun. The people were starting to trickle out of the marketplace as the merchants closed up their shops. The distraught butcher gave another look around his stall for the missing sack, this time having attracted the attention of several guards in his rage. Anxiety filled the pit in my stomach that had once been occupied by hunger, but I tried to push it aside as I looked over at Zevran, who had been brooding since the end of our conversation.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, getting up from my seat and crossing the balcony. I stashed the bag of leftover jerky in a hollow spot in the wall behind a crate. We’d been using it to hide our stolen good for years now.  
“For what?” he replied, still testy but a little more gently than before.

“For making you worry.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, alright?” Zevran replied. He sighed heavily and stood up, messing my hair with half a smile. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he watched the last of the merchants pick up shop and head out of the market before making to climb down from the balcony. “C’mon, it’s about time to take you back for dinner, not that it’s gonna taste the same now.”

He helped me down from the top of the building and walked with me through the town, leading me home as he always did. I chose not to talk about what had transpired that day because it seemed that Zevran was especially bothered though I couldn’t figure out why. I took my hood down and tried to fix my hair that Zevran had messed up earlier, though he just took the palm of his hand and tousled it again. I spent most of the trip trying to bat his hand away from my head until we reached the gates of the castle. A small group of guards was just leaving the grounds, approaching us dutifully and paying us no mind until...

“YOU!” 

Out of habit Zevran and I immediately made to split, but their arms reached out and seized us before we had the opportunity to flee. Before I knew it I was being lifted into the air, nose to nose with the guard that had confronted me only an hour before. It took two of them to hold onto a squirming Zevran, but when we realized what was happening we both stopped struggling. 

“We left the castle to look for you, but what do you know, you walked right into us!” the man said, chuckling menacingly.

“Turns out Corinna didn’t remember you at all, and certainly hasn’t hired any knife-ears to work for her lately!” one of the guards holding Zevran growled. “Sir Mallus has quiet a punishment for you, little sneak thief! You stole quite a hefty amount of meat, probably worth more than you!”

“It wasn’t her fault, it was my idea!” Zevran protested, squirming against the men restraining him.

“Clout him and bring him back to the brothel, would you? I understand the matriarch has specific plans for him.”

I screamed at the top of my lungs as one of the guards pulled out his sword, which gleamed in the setting sun as he brought the pommel down on the back of Zevran’s head. My best friend went limp and was thrown over the shoulder of the guard who began to disappear back into town toward the brothel. Suddenly I lost all my nerve. My hands begin to shake as tears poured down my cheeks, though the more I cried the harder the guards would laugh. I sobbed and sobbed as I was dragged kicking and screaming back through the main doors of the castle. As I was marched along the halls I began to hear the sound of another voice wailing too, and as we burst through the doors that led toward the dungeons I saw that it was my mother, beating on the arm of yet another soldier. What was she doing here? My stomach knotted up even tighter as I realized that I had never seen my mother cry before. Had they told her what they were going to do to me?

“Skylar, my sweet child, what have you done?” she sobbed, breaking free of the guard to run over to me. 

The man carrying me struck her down to the ground and I screamed, reacting by kicking him in the stomach so hard that he dropped me. I scurried across the ground to reach her and she pulled me into her arms, hugging me tightly as her eye began to swell. The guard I had kicked was holding his stomach and staring down at me with rage as his fellows laughed.

“Bet you won’t be so ornery once they lop your ears off, will you?” he snarled, yanking on my braid and dragging me across the floor toward the door to the dungeons. 

My mother’s scream pierced the castle as I tried in vain to dig my fingernails into the grimy tile. They tore her away from the door and slammed it shut in her face though I could still hear her cries of despair even through the thick steel and wood. I had cried so hard that my chest now heaved with the exertion of trying to catch my breath. My hands were clamped hard against my ears though I knew it would make no difference. Flame light flickered off the dirty walls stained with what I hoped was grease as we descended the stone staircase leading to the dungeons. Wailing and whimpering started to creep towards us, along with the occasional crack of a whip followed by a scream. My teeth were chattering and tears still spilled down my cheeks in silence. Maybe if I behaved from this moment on, they’d leave my ears.

No words were spoken until we reached the basement. Two rights and a left, through a door with a barred window into a room with a table and a fireplace. It didn’t look so bad until I realized that there were shackles on the table and a dagger resting with its tip in the fire. The panic slammed into me again like a battering ram. I wriggled free of the guardsman’s grasp with a scream like a feral cat, slamming into the door that had been locked shut. I frantically looked around for a way to escape and when the guard made a motion to grab me again I slipped under his arm and bolted for the window. I found it barred, and by the time I tried to scurry up the walls to see if I could squeeze out, I’d been grabbed around my waist and slammed hard onto the metal table by the fire. With the wind knocked out of me I tried to blink the stars out of my eyes while the men began to chain me up. 

“Skinny little thing ain’t she? Surprised she put up so much of a fight,” one of them commented while the others loomed over me with sick pleasure in their eyes.

“PLEASE, please don’t do this. I swear I’ll never steal again, I promise!” I pleaded, although part of me knew it was no use. All the men did was laugh in my face.

“You ain’t done a lick of work since you been born, we been keepin’ an eye on you for awhile now, knife ear.”

“Yeh, you and that little rat friend of yours from the brothel have caused trouble around here for too long. Both of yeh are gonna get what’s comin’ to yeh.”

“Zevran? Where did he go? What did you do to him?!” I cried, suddenly feeling very ill. 

“Don’t you worry about it. Doubt you’ll ever see him again, so I hope you said your goodbyes while you had the chance. Oh wait, you didn’t!”

It was as if something inside me broke at that moment, and the panic gave way to a burning sensation that had nothing to do with the knife being lifted from the fire, though it glowed just as brightly as the white hot blade. All I could think about was getting out of here and seeing my friend. Where were they sending him? Had he already left? What would become of him? I ignored the menacing chuckles as the dagger was lowered toward the tips of my ears.

“Just the tip he said, in case we need to take off more later!” 

A searing pain shot from my head down to the tips of my toes, like a thousand cuts pressing into my flesh. I knew I was screaming, though I could barely hear myself, and even the men mutilating my ears seemed to be surprised at the force of my lungs. The acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air and between that and the pain that was consuming my consciousness, I lost control of my stomach. The men recoiled as I lay there humiliated and in agony, the tip of my ear soaked in blood and vomit on the edge of the table. They swore loudly at the fact that I might have gotten some on them though the blood of a mostly innocent child was smeared all across their fronts. When they roughly turned my head to the side to sear off the other one, I was already fading into a different consciousness. I felt my body lift into the air, although when I looked down I could see myself laying on the table unconscious. Oddly enough, however, I felt no panic. I knew I wasn’t dead, but I also knew I wasn’t in the proper realm anymore. Was this what the Fade was like? It sure didn’t feel like it...

“She didn’t scream that time,” one of the men commented as they picked up the tips of my ears and tossed them into the fire. 

“Looks like she’s passed out. Good, all that bellyachin’ was startin’ to give me a headache. What do we do with ‘er now? Blimey look at all that blood!”

“We throw her back in the servant’s quarters where she belongs.”

I glared down at them for only a moment before they began to unchain me, picking me up and throwing me over a shoulder as if I were a rag doll. My ears were streaking blood down the man’s back as he made his was out of the dungeon with his counterpart, both of them making awful conversation about how exhilarating their first lopping had been. I felt my fingernails cutting into the palms of my hands as I balled them into fists. When they had just about reached the servant’s quarters, I heard a voice speak as if it were right next to me, though when I looked around there was no one but the guards.

“Now you wake. I have done what I could to help, but the rest is up to you.”

A sensation like being sucked through a straw took over my body, and though I tried to fight it I felt myself slipping back into... well, myself. From my toes to the (lack of) tips of my ears, life flooded back into me and I felt my eyes flutter open, followed by an excruciating pain. The guard holding me barely had time to grunt a response before I sunk my teeth into his shoulder, scratching and clawing my way out of his arms and landing on the floor with a splat.

“Oy! She’s getting away!” he yelled to his friend, but by the time either one of them reacted I had shot toward the door leading into the servant’s quarters, then out the laundry room door. 

“Forget it, I bet we’ll know where to find her.”

I streaked like a rocket through the dark of night, ears throbbing mercilessly as I held back tears. Pushing back the ivy, I slid through the crack in the wall and out onto the banks of the moat, across the fallen log and into the abandoned city streets. My hood had been stripped off earlier in the dungeons, but I didn’t particularly care to hide my face at this point. I needed to run away, or they’d surely take off the rest of my ears as well. 

When I burst through the door of the Forbidden Fruit, the concierge Bet’aleina, who also mothered the orphans who stayed there, didn’t even look up from her books for a moment.

“Sorry sugar, we’re closed for the- Maker’s Breath little one, what have they done to you?” 

Blood was gushing from the stumps of my ears, matted in my hair, soaking my clothes and streaked down my face. Bet’aleina immediately leapt up from her seat and grabbed a towel off the wall (I didn’t have the energy to cringe at what they were usually used for), rushing over to me and scooping me up in her arms. That was when I began to cry again, big, awful sobs that shook my entire body and made me ache even more.

“No wonder Zevran was so distraught when he came back, you poor thing,” she cooed, walking up the stairs to the heavily perfumed second floor, past that to the massive single bedroom on the third floor where the slaves slept and all but kicking in the door. “Lenora, wake up! Grab your staff, quickly!”

Nearly everyone roused from sleep immediately, and across the room I could see the silhouette of Zevran where he had been looking out the window across town. I cringed in pain, resisting the urge to put my hands to my ears and rub the pain out of them. Bet’aleina lay me down on a bed of straw and linen only seconds before Zevran skidded to a halt beside me and took up my hand in his. I had seen him cry only a few times before, and it was terrifying now to see tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked over me.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry!” he said, gripping my hand so tightly that my fingers went numb. I didn’t protest for an instant.

“Zevran please, back up so Lenora can heal her!” Bet’aleina demanded, pushing him aside as the human mage knelt next to me and placed a palm on my forehead. However, before she began to recite a spell she looked at me with the most interested expression.

“Are you a mage, little one?” she asked. She must have been new because I’d never seen her face before, and everyone knew I had no magical ability.

“Of course not!” Bet’aleina replied for me. “We would have known by now.”

“It’s just that there’s this curious energy-“

“Now is not the time, Lenora!”

“Right, my apologies,” the mage said hastily, readying her staff as I shut my eyes tightly. “This will only take a moment, you shant feel a thing until you fall asleep.”

Warmth settled over my head like a cloth being draped about it, and I felt a light tingling sensation at the end of my ears. The pain slowly faded away and it almost felt as if invisible hands were stitching my skin back together. I suddenly felt very drowsy, as if my eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, and although I attempted to mutter a thank you only a jumble of incoherent sounds came out. The adults talked over me urgently and I felt something slide into the linens next to me. A hand stroked my hair back from my forehead over and over until the familiar and comforting scent of leather and spices filling my senses lulled me into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	2. Easy Come, Easy Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skylar wakes up in safety, coming to terms with her departure from Antiva. She is to be placed in the care of a man named Grandmaster Algernon, a quiet and mysterious elf with a curious necklace. However when it comes time for she and Zevran to leave, the price they must pay for their disobedience and escape is much more than they ever anticipated.

  


Chapter Two: Easy Come, Easy Go __

_There's no yellow bricks to follow back,_  
and run from that disaster.  
Familiar sins come crashing in,  
And sever forever and after.  
My old friend, it's time I leave you here,  
For once, for all in frozen alabaster.  
Believe me,  
There's no place like home.   


Torrential, pouring, rain. Relentless, like the boots of a thousand urgent soldiers stampeding into battle. The wind would come and go, beating the stone walls so hard that the shutters pounded as if demanding to enter, but the rain never stopped. Claps of thunder exploded with the force of a cannon. Forks of lightning illuminated the inky darkness as brightly as the sun, leaping playfully from cloud to cloud. Tonight was the kind of night that made it difficult to sleep for even the nobles in their down beds with satin sheets. The chilly night air found its way through cracks in the walls, making the top floor of the Fruit so cold that its inhabitants were huddled together in the middle of the room for warmth. Most of the elves were asleep thanks to the assistance of Lenora's magic, but the more mage-wary lay awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if it might cave in.

It was one of these roars of thunder that finally woke me from my sleep. I started and looked around frantically for my mother, a habit of mine during thunderstorms, before whacking the side of my head off Zevran’s chin. The pain in my temple and the throbbing in my ears reminded me of what had transpired during the day and I shuddered involuntarily.

“Are you cold?” he asked, startling me slightly. I was surprised that he was awake. “Sorry I’m not much for body heat.”

“I’m okay,” I replied simply, though I inched closer to him as if trying to disappear into his chest. “Why are you up?”

“I didn’t feel like sleeping tonight anyway.”

I frowned to myself, then wriggled around to my other side so that my chest was against him. Looking up into his eyes I could see that he was still staring wistfully out the window. I buried my nose into his collarbone and wondered how many times he’d laid with girls like this after... I quickly perished the thought from my mind. It was brief moments like this that, despite the searing reminder of what castle life was like, I couldn’t imagine living in a brothel.

“How are... you feeling?” he asked very softly, softer than I had ever heard him speak. My cheeks automatically flushed red. 

I felt humiliated. I was in pain. I was worried, I was anxious, I was tired, I was confused. I was so many things that if I tried to put them all into words I’d surely drown under their weight. My mother was probably terrified at the fact that she hadn’t seen me since before she knew I was going to lose my ears. Suddenly I felt guilt rise into the mixture of emotions that was already threatening to overwhelm me. With tears forming in my eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood before finally responding.

“Scared.”

I heard a small intake of breath and felt Zevran crane his neck to look down at the top of my head. All of a sudden the feeling of lips pressing into the top of my head made my breath catch in my throat.

“I was scared today too,” he whispered, barely audibly, his lips still brushing against the skin of my forehead. “I was scared because I didn’t know what was going to happen to you, and I’m scared because I don’t know what’s still going to happen.”

Now it was my turn to gasp. In all the chaos and horror I had completely forgotten that Zevran had been promised a punishment too. _“You’ll both get what’s comin’ to yeh!” “I understand the matriarch has specific plans for him.” “Doubt you’ll ever see him again.”_ As if I couldn’t get any more conflicted, just throw extra guilt on for being so selfish. I tried to stammer out some kind of question I think, but the words just wouldn’t form. It felt as if a steel gauntlet gripped my heart and was now crushing it into tiny pieces. He seemed to know what was coming and saved me the trouble of having to ask.

“I’m compradi,” he said, as if the two words bore more weight than an entire building. They did. 

“W-who? The matriarch?” I asked, though I already knew that answer was far too good to be true. Of course, he shook his head.

“Talav Arainai,” Zevran answered. I shook my head and he paused for what felt like ages before finally finishing. “He is the Guildmaster of the Crows.”

A sharp intake of breath made everything on my body hurt. Surely not the Crows? 

“I leave at dawn. But y’know, the hardest thing isn’t knowing what that means. It’s wondering what’s going to happen to you after all this,” he breathed, but when I made to tell him not to worry he held up his hand. “No, don’t. I’ve asked for one favor before I go, and that’s for you to leave Antiva safely.”

I pushed away from him and looked up into his eyes with a thunderstruck expression. What was that supposed to mean? Who was he, barely two years older than me, to decide the course of my life for me? Of course, at that point I didn’t realize just how large of a sacrifice he’d made for me, and later on I would kick myself for just how selfish of a child I had been. 

“What do you mean leave Antiva?” I exclaimed a little louder than I had anticipated. A few of the sleeping elves turned in their sleep, but the idea simply had never occurred to me, as I mentioned earlier. “I can’t just go, my mother is here!”

“Do you know what they’ll do to you once they find you again? Now is your only chance to run. As soon as we’re gone Bet’aleina will send a letter to your mother telling her that you’re alive and that you love her.”

As the shock of what he was saying began to set in, my eyes dried when I assumed they would overflow with tears. All these times I had wished that I could escape the drudgery of slave life, I had only assumed that it would be with Zevran and my mother, not completely alone with my ears mutilated and no time to say goodbye. I suddenly blamed it all on Zevran, giving me no say in the matter, but couldn’t find the heart to say anything back to him. In return he simply hugged me to his chest, nose pressed against my ear. He told me to rest while I could, but between the storm raging outside and the blizzard in my chest I felt no desire to sleep. These were going to be my last hours with Zevran until we parted ways. I didn’t want to ask where I was to go, or what plans were made for me. I only wanted to lay here, breathing in the sweet scent of the only friend I had ever known, and try to ignore the circumstances that led to the occasion.

 

At some point however, exhaustion must have overtaken me. At least that’s what I believed. The truth was that Zevran had made eye contact with the watchful Bet’aleina over my shoulder while I had been laying there adamantly awake, nodding to her as she raised her staff to put me back to sleep. Another thing I would have been senselessly angry at him about, no doubt. The morning came far too quickly, the storm having made way for an awful gloom that lay over the city, blanketing everything in grey clouds and damp fog. The pain in my ears was what roused me, and when I opened my eyes I found that Zevran was sound asleep next to me. I wondered how long he’d been awake looking over me, and would have felt terribly guilty for waking him. Anxiety slammed into me again as I recalled our conversation from the night before. I had no idea what lay ahead of me today, and got up quickly so as not to wake Zevran. When I padded down the stairs I felt someone snatch me around my waist and pull me aside, a sensation that made me cry out automatically. When I realized it was just Bet’aleina, frantically trying to calm me and apologizing for having startled me, I balled my fists up and cursed myself for acting like such a coward. As if sensing my dismay, she sat me down in a chair in the hallway and smoothed my hair back. 

“Shhh, I’m sorry darling, don’t cry,” she said softly, cupping my chin in her hands. Her eyes were dark brown like mahogany and filled with more feeling than I had ever seen before. “I was trying to keep you from going downstairs where the street folk might see you. We need to keep you out of sight until Masters Talav and Algernon arrive.”

She began to gently undo the braid that had been matted with blood and half torn out, humming what I recognized as an elven lullaby my mother had sung when I was younger and there was still a happy gleam in her eyes. She hadn’t had troubles at the castle until I had been old enough to cause her grief. More guilt. More pain in my chest. 

“We’ve run a bath for you and Zevran, just for the occasion, with our best soaps,” Bet’aleina said, tying my ribbon around my wrist so I wouldn’t lose it. “I’ll dress your ears afterwards and we’ll make you look properly lovely, doesn’t that sound nice?”

I sniffed and nodded, not nearly grateful enough for the great lengths she was going to in order to make me comfortable. She took me back up to the third floor, in a tiny room off the side of the bedroom. The washtub was already full of steaming water, and I let the kind woman strip my filthy clothes. When she went to set them down however I grabbed her arm and looked at her pleadingly.

“Please don’t throw them away! My mother made them for me and I’d like to keep them,” I asked, but she nodded knowingly.

“Of course, I’m just going to have them washed before I pack them for you.”

I thanked her feebly as she helped me into the bath. The water burned my skin but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a proper hot bath- if ever. I let my emotions slide off me with the layers of dirt and blood that almost immediately stained the water red. I closed my eyes and pretended it was my mother washing me like she did every week before we went to the Chantry. Some elves thought it strange that she believed in the Maker but it was all she had ever know, and in turn me as well. We came from a long line of city elves which always made me wonder if we would have been better off living with the Dalish, wandering and free, believing in the gods of our people. Bet’aleina scrubbed me with perfumed soaps for what felt like ages, tsk-tsking audibly at all the dirt that had gotten under my fingernails. I suppose it made sense that prostitutes might have better fingernails than castle slaves, but it wasn’t as if I did an awful lot of work- something I was regretting all of a sudden. She scratched her fingers into my scalp until suds came out, pouring the hot (and now fairly dirty) water over my head as she rinsed me off. When she finally dressed me in one of the less-revealing dresses from the Fruit and sat me down in front of the mirror to braid my hair, the girl before me was a stranger. My slate grey eyes, usually as dull as the coat of dirt that I had been wearing, were shining from under my rusty bangs. My body looked so limber in the flowing gown that it reminded me of the girls Zevran’s age, barely thirteen, who were going to working in (and out) of this kind of attire at the very place I was leaving forever. Why had they never been offered the chance to leave? Why me? I hadn’t done anything to deserve my freedom except cause everyone an exceptional amount of trouble.

“There, that’s much better,” Bet’aleina said, pulling the gold ribbon from her hair and affixing it to the end of my braid. “One shouldn’t leave on a grand adventure with only one ribbon after all.”

I muttered a thanks as she handed me a small salve, applying some to the edges of my ears as an example. It hurt for a few moments, but almost instantly the salve made the wounds tingle and stop their constant ache. 

“It’s from Lenora,” she explained, as we made our way down to breakfast. When we reached the table, Zevran was already there looking as shiny as a brand new sovereign. When I furrowed my brows in confusion Bet’aleina gave a hearty chuckle. “Why, you didn’t think we only had one washroom for seventeen people and eight orphans did you?”

Zevran and I stared at each other for the longest time, as if we’d never seen each other before. True, I’d seen Zevran after a bath and in his usual clothes but I had never seen him like this. His clothes, as with mine, seemed to be some of the finest in the building. His hair was pulled back with braids along the sides and had been cut to just above his shoulders, a hairstyle I’d never seen on him before. For the first time, I couldn’t help but think how handsome my best friend looked. 

“You look... really great,” Zevran stammered, which made me blush furiously. 

“Thanks. You too.”

The brothel had been closed for the morning, and everyone had gotten together to make as delicious of a breakfast was possible for prostitutes living in the slums. There was some several day old fruit, bread that was almost not stale, cheese from the only cow between all of them and jerky from what we had stashed yesterday. Although I didn’t particularly feel up for jerky, there was still something preventing anyone from filling their plates. 

“Ah here they are!” a voice called from the lower levels. All of a sudden the talking and energy that filled the room came to a standstill as the sounds of several pairs of boots ascended the stairs. “Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to our esteemed guests, Guildmaster Talav Arainai and Grandmaster Algernon Kysei.”

Everyone stood up and quickly bowed their heads to the two men who had just entered. They couldn’t have been more different. The guildmaster was a massive hulk of a man in impressive armor with a severe expression and a full beard like the night sky. However he held himself as if he were smaller than his frame indicated, almost like he could lift the eyelashes off your face without you noticing. The Grandmaster, however, was an elf like myself, tall and limber, but old and strong, wrapped in robes the color of fresh blood. He reminded me of the twisted oak tree on the outskirts of the castle grounds that I used to climb when I was younger. Lightning, wind, storms and snow had battered that tree mercilessly but it still stood, bowed up against everything, immovable and proud.

“It is a pleasure to meet you all,” Grandmaster Algernon said with a voice like silk, bowing to all of us as if we were equals. 

“Quite! I never expected a whorehouse to be so... homey!” the Guildmaster boomed, taking the empty seat next to Zevran as the Grandmaster did the same next to me. “No offense of course, please don’t hit me.”

The Guildmaster was a humorous, jolly man, much unlike what I would have expected of a member of an assassin’s guild, and it was Algernon who kept mostly to himself, surveying the table as opposed to interacting with it. Every now again he would politely add to a conversation, but he seemed to be more concerned with staring at me which obviously set me on edge. Was it my ears? Or maybe he believed me to be a mage as Lenora had. Whatever the reason, he did not say as breakfast continued without incident. Eventually when it came time to clear off the table, the four of us were left alone and I assumed it was time to get down to business.

“Well, I suppose you know why were here, yes?” Talav asked, leaning back in his chair and flexing his shoulders. 

“I imagine young Zevran knows why _you’re_ here, but I’ve come to understand that everything is a mystery to this young girl here,” Algernon corrected politely, gesturing to me. Talav shrugged at him and began to converse with Zevran. “Your name is Skylar, is it not?”

“It is sir.”

“A lovely name, human just as mine is. Now, Lenora mentioned that you said you didn’t have any magical abilities, is that correct?” he asked, and when I nodded he smiled a knowing smile that made me feel a little uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to beg to differ.”

From his pocket he produced a necklace with a teardrop shaped, ruby gem as a pendant. In the middle of the red stone was a black streak, like the eye of a beast. At first I didn’t understand where I’d seen it before but then it hit me. Last night as Lenora was bending over me, when she’d asked if I was a mage, the very same pendant had been hanging around her neck. Without saying a word, Algernon placed the jewel in my hand. 

The entire world went black for a moment and I experienced the sensation of sliding down a straw again, but this time I wasn’t floating over myself. I was dreaming while awake, visions flashing through my mind faster than I could make sense of. A woman stealing through the night with a basket, an egg hatching in a flash of red light, a dragonling spreading its wings for the first time, the curious scar on my left wrist. When I suddenly came to again I was breathing heavily, and had slid off my chair to the floor. Both Talav and Zevran were staring at me with shocked expressions but Algernon could barely hide his excitement.

“Maker’s breath, it is you. I never thought I’d see the day...”

“What... just happened to me?” I asked, trying to rub whatever it was out of my eyes as Algernon picked up the pendant I had dropped to the floor.

“You just took the first step into the rest of your life, apparently,” Talav interjected with a loud laugh. “You sure you don’t want to rent her out to us once in awhile when she’s all trained up?”

“Absolutely not!” Algernon replied indignantly, puffing himself up like an angry hen. “The race of Dragonkin is barely rekindling and shant be used as your idle plaything!” 

“Suit yourself,” the Guildmaster chuckled, waving his affront away with a hand. “Now, as I was saying, both of you will be leaving on the road with us shortly, and we’ll fill you in on everything more then. I advise you pack a small sack with only your essentials and quickly at that.”

Zevran and I exchanged intrigued glances at the sudden order, but were quickly ushered out of our chairs by the two men. I swear I could have overheard Algernon whisper “Quickly, they’re coming,” as he guided me toward the stairs to the third level. When we arrived there and the two masters went back downstairs to speak with Bet’aleina, I found myself standing around with nothing to do. All of my belongings had been at the castle, and I hadn’t thought to take anything when I fled. Feeling incredibly wistful, I looked across the room to where Zevran was packing and babbling about how exciting he suddenly thought it would be to be an assassin. When he realized that I wasn’t replying, he paused and looked up at me with a concerned expression.

“Everything okay, Sky?” he asked, biting his lip. 

“It’s just, I don’t have anything to pack,” I answered dismally, trying not to sound as morose as I felt. It was unlike me to be such a complainer and a crybaby but as of late circumstances had really pushed me to my breaking point. “All I have is this dress and the clothes mother made for me.”

“Wait, but then what’s that?”

Zevran pointed across the room to a nightstand, where a small sack had been placed with a note on top. He finished packing his belongings and got up to follow me over, where I picked up the note and examined it. The note had my name on it in my mother’s flowing script and I felt a my chest tighten. How...?

“Well, go on and open it.”

My fingers trembled ever so slightly as I fingered the note, a delicate scrap of paper that I knew my mother had been writing on recently. I was tempted to see if it smelled like her, but didn’t want to seem foolish so instead I simply opened it.

_My Dearest Skylar,_

_I know you haven’t got much time left in the city. Lenora sent me a letter describing the circumstances and we both agreed it would be best for you to leave Rialto. Many things are about to come to light that won’t make sense, and some of it might make you angry. I’m sorry for ever having held these things back from you, but there never seemed to be a right time to tell you. I want you to know that I love you just as much as if you were mine from the very start, and I wish only the best for you. Once you leave, I doubt the guards will pursue you. For all they know, you’re still just an irrelevant elven slave that ran off from the castle. Always remember that this isn’t true. Your destiny holds so much more for you than you ever could have imagines before. Again, I love you so very much, and remember to thank Lenora and Bet’aleina for the great risks they took in order to care for you and bring you these belongings. Don’t reject the things that Grandmaster Algernon tells you, as far-fetched as they might seem, and most of all: be strong._

_Mother_

_P.S. This necklace was with you when I found you, it was never mine. My only order had been to take it off of you until the time was right to keep you out of danger. Now it is only right that I return it to you. Be safe, my little Skylark._

 

For about the millionth time in the last 24 hours I felt the heat rise to my face, but this time I batted the tears away and fixed my trembling lip. Be strong she had said, and strong I intended to be from this moment forth. Zevran, who had been reading over my shoulder, had an endless amount of questions I’m sure but chose to ask none of them, instead wrapping his arms around my shoulders and peeking into the pack that I now inched open with a careful hand. Where I had assumed my rags from the castle would be, all thrown in a heap and barely clean despite a good scrubbing, I saw clothing unfamiliar to me. Surely this was nothing like they ever would have given to the slaves. The linens were clean and fairly well sewn, and underneath everything else sat a set of rough leather armor. My eyes widened as I abandoned all caution and dumped out the bag on the table, Zevran and I rifling through everything with surprise.

“This... looks like the clothes the teryn’s children wear!” Zevran exclaimed, looking them over. “I know this because they have this awful little pocket on the inside that’s impossible to pick.”

“But how? And why?” I stammered, unable to believe that anyone would go to such great lengths for me. 

That was when something rolled out of the leather armor and dropped to the ground. Furrowing our eyebrows, Zevran and I both bent down to look. Picking the silver chain off the floor, something finally clicked in my head. It was a pendant, almost identical to the ones that Lenora and the Grandmaster wore, except this one was dark blue like the ocean with a streak of gold in the middle. The most peculiar part about it, however, was the fact that this had been the pendant my mother wore her entire life. I had always absently acknowledged it dangling over me during my scoldings or hugs, but never really looked at it. This had been mine? When she... found me?

I opened my mouth to ask Zevran what he thought of the whole thing but was immediately interrupted by a loud BANG from the lower levels, followed by screams. Zevran pulled two daggers from his belt and made to run downstairs, but nearly stabbed poor Bet’aleina as she appeared on the top step.

“Children, quickly, grab your things and go off the balcony! The guards are here!”

As I hastily shoved all my things back in my bag and tied the pendant around my neck, carefully tucking Mother’s note into a side pocket, Zevran protested, saying that he should be able to stay and fight for his own honor. Bet’aleina cuffed him about the head and called him daft before practically shoving him toward the balcony window, though it was barely too late. The guards burst through the door at the top of the stairs and approached menacingly, brandishing their swords.

“Honestly, they’re just children! Let them go in peace!” Bet’aleina pleaded, pulling her own dagger from a fold in her robe.

“Welp, y’see, we’d really like to do that,” one of the men sneered in a way that indicated he was definitely not telling the truth. “The thing is, one of them is wanted for thefts so high that it’d take the next six knife ears combined to pay off.”

Zevran’s eyes grew wide and I saw a waver in his reserve flit across his face. Bet’aleina pushed us back toward the window very slowly as not to incite an attack, but it was clear that these men weren’t going to let us go without a fight. It appeared to be the end of the line for us. 

“That’s right, we found your little stash on the second floor balcony, you little rat,” the man continued, producing a glove and a handful of jewels from his pocket. “Funny, this is your glove, ain’t it?”

“And that one over there,” the other man chimed in, pointing at me. “How’re yer ears? I’m glad I left a little on so I get to have another go at ‘em when I drag you back in.”

My eyes narrowed when I finally studied the man’s face. I could still remember him so vividly, looming over me, humming a little tune to himself as he pressed a white hot knife into my flesh and tossed the tips of my ears into a fire. A burning rage built up inside me, a fire behind my eyes and in my heart, and before I could stop myself I loosed a scream so loud that the voice was not my own. It was a thunderous sound that knocked the men to their knees momentarily as they clapped their hands to their ears. The pendant around my neck glowed so brightly that I squinted from the glare as my jaw hung open. 

“Whoa, what was that?” Zevran exclaimed, eyes practically falling out of his head. 

“Never mind, just go!” Bet’aleina urged as the men climbed to their feet and advanced with their swords.

With a frustrated growl Zevran grabbed my hand and jerked me toward the window, though I wanted to stay and help Bet’aleina. As we burst out onto the overhang and scrabbled down the side of the building from awning to awning, I heard an awful scream pierce the morning light and winced as I realized what had happened. Suddenly my heart and that pendant hung very heavy around my neck.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand why Bet’aleina did what she did that day. Perhaps she was looking out for one of her kind. Perhaps she saw this future in me that others claimed to see, or perhaps she was a good person. Perhaps she was sick of living as a whore in one of the “better” brothels in town. Whatever reason caused her to protect me the morning of 9:17 Dragon, the odd thing was that all I could remember thinking was how bothered I was that I had never gotten to know her better. The wonderful woman that raised Zevran, looked after me, helped heal my ears and then gave her life for a little girl she barely knew- she would end up being a better person than anyone I would ever cross paths with. Well, almost everyone.

However none of that seemed to occur to me right in that moment. Zevran held fast to my hand as we darted through the city streets, following the bellows we recognized to belong to Talav and Algernon. Once we regrouped with the two men a few blocks away from the brothel the chase was on. All this time I never stopped to think about what effect this was having on Zevran, despite how unbothered he seemed by it all. The Fruit had been his home his entire life, and he fled from it now without so much as a glance back at it. I suppose it was like he had always said: “Easy come, easy go.”


	3. Departure and Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skylar and Zevran are on the road, led by Guildmaster Talav and Grandmaster Algernon. After getting acquainted they learn the legend of the dragonkin, an ancient clan of individuals that share the blood of the dragons and work with them as partners. Who is this mysterious woman Aria and how is she related to Skylar? Our protagonist's second lesson comes far too soon after an argument with Zevran, leaving her regretting her words for far longer than she anticipated.

Chapter Three: Departure and Denial

__

  
I see where we had common doubt.  
I’d be lonely if you weren’t so proud.  
I have seen so many loving faces,  
They turn back and leave with words of regret.  
The road goes and I am  
finding home in it.  


 

Nobody paid attention to two well-dressed strangers leaving Rialto with two elven children in tow, especially one with bandages over her ears. After the chaos of the morning had passed we all walked along the road in silence, heading for the border of Antiva and the Free Marches. The only thing we had been told in the last few hours was that in a few days, that was where we would part ways. It was something I didn’t want to think about, but the reality of the situation was that I didn’t particularly want to think about _anything._

Someone would eventually ask me what the most degrading feeling in the world was, eventually being shocked that the mutilation of what marked my race was not my answer. Even then, at eleven years old, the most degrading feeling I’d ever experienced was finding out that you weren’t nearly as brave as you thought you were, especially when you’d put on a bluster just to impress your friend. It was all well and good for Zevran, he was always brave. Even in the few moments he foolishly worried about me, there wasn’t a cowardly bone in his body. I, on the other hand, had been crying for days now, faltered in the face of questioning, bleated like a lamb at adversity, run away from my problems and refused to do anything to help a woman who eventually gave her life for me. I’d spent all this time convincing myself of how tough I was, only to receive a swift kick in the gut by reality.

“Are you okay? How are your ears feeling?” Zevran asked after hours of silence, reaching a hand out to me which I quickly batted away. “Hey, what was that for?”

“I’m fine, okay?” I snapped, staring at the ground angrily and scuffing my feet in the dirt.

We hung back from the two masters who were now scouting ahead for a place to camp. Bandits were well known for frequenting the roads we now travelled, attempting to prey on wealthy merchants traveling between Antiva and all locations south through the Free Marches and beyond. Zevran frowned at me and caught my hand in his, pulling me around to look at him. Avoiding his eyes, I tried to squirm free of his grasp, but he held me fast with a frustrated expression.

“Stop being such a stubborn brat and let me give you something. I brought them just for you,” he insisted. “If you don’t want them, just say so and I’ll toss them.”

There I was, being difficult and troublesome again. Blushing brightly, I gently pulled my hands free from his grasp as we resumed walking again. He gave me a look as if to say “That’s what I thought,” before slinging his pack over one arm and rifling through it. After a few moments he pulled out an object wrapped in a cloth and handed it to me. It was much heavier than I anticipated, and when I opened it up I found that there were two beautifully crafted daggers sitting inside, although they seemed to have gotten good use beforehand. I recognized them immediately. 

“When Talav recruited me, he gave me a new set. I figured you might want to keep these, and I could teach you to fight while we travel.”

“Not that she’s going to need it!” Talav laughed heartily. He and Algernon had returned from their scouting ahead and had been eavesdropping for a few moments without our knowledge. 

“Nonsense, the girl has no idea how to defend herself at present and it’s going to be quite sometime before she-“ Algernon started, but was cut off by Talav putting a finger to his bushy mouth.

“Shhh, spoilers! Now, let’s make camp for the night and we can brief you a little more about the remainder of our journeys.”

Guildmaster Talav and Zevran went out in search of a ram or deer to take down for supper while Algernon began to build a fire and taught me how to set up a tent. I was grateful for the fact that he didn’t seem to be as talkative as his traveling companion, though I knew that we would have to make conversation at some point. At this point I was grateful for less being more, and when we finally sat on the edge of the nearby river while the other two skinned their kill (a handsome buck with a magnificent set of horns), I tried to steel my nerve and prepare myself for what was to come.

“Now, Skylar, I’m sure you have plenty of questions, but I’m going to try to answer them as I go along, alright?” he asked as I nodded. “Wonderful. I shall begin with the lore. Long ago when the Maker first created the universe we live in, he made dragons before all else. They were the original living creature, and ruled the world for many years as the only creature with cognitive function. Nowadays we are led to believe that dragons are mindless savage beasts, but that is not so. However it is true that dragons are supremely powerful, and when the Maker realized that their power was great enough to destroy the world he had created, he decided to make another creature that had intelligence matching the great strength of the dragons.  
This is where the Qunari people came from, the bone of the first dragon was carved into their likeness, though out of respect for the original the Maker left their horns. Pleased with how beautiful the Qunari were, he began to make elves, humans, and dwarves as well. However, the dragons, upset that there were so many more creatures on the earth than them, demanded that more of their kind be created as well. The Maker declined, but instead made them an offer: He would take the remaining bones of the eldest dragon and carve more humanoids that shared the dragon’s spirit. These would be known as the Dragonkin.  
Not to be confused with those who merely worship the dragons, the few Dragonkin that were created had the blood of dragons coursing within their veins. They bonded with their very own hatchlings and made partners of them. A dragonkin and its dragon parter was said to be the most powerful adversary in the universe- a match even for the Old Gods.  
Yet the dragons were dissatisfied and torn. Half of the dragons believed that this was a slap in the face to them. Humans, elves, dwarves and Qunari had no right to be riding them like steeds and bending them to their will. The other half of the dragons believed that this pairing was good, that they were equals and the pairing was beneficial to both parties. A great battle ensued, and the dragonkin that weren’t killed by the high dragons that opposed them went into hiding, unintentionally breeding out their bloodline.”

I listened with acute attention. I had always been enraptured by lore and tales of old, especially ones having to do with dragons. When he trailed off and looked at me with a serious expression, I looked around confused. 

“Sorry sir, but what does any of this have to do with me?” I asked, blinking at him stupidly.

“Over the past few decades the Dragonkin have been steadily rebuilding, but with much resistance from some of the high dragons. Your mother was a Dragonkin; the woman you never truly had a chance to meet,” he explained, and I could barely believe my ears as he reached out to touch the pendant around my neck. “Our women give birth in the same cavern that our dragon matriarch lays her eggs, to see if Dragonkin blood has been passed on to their young. The moment you were born, one of the eggs in our clutch hatched, and the dragonling imprinted on you. It willingly gave its blood to be bound to this pendant with magic, and in turn bound to you.”

I blinked once. I blinked twice. I sniggered. I snorted. Then I burst into raucous laughter that startled even Zevran and Talav who were now roasting hearty flanks over the fire. Algernon looked taken aback (or offended, I couldn’t really tell which) as I wiped a tear from my eye and settled down once again.

“I’m really sorry, that’s an amazing story, super interesting. But I think you have the wrong girl.”

“I had a feeling you might say something like that,” he replied nonchalantly, rifling through his massive pack. “This might take a moment.”

The others made their way over with chunks of meat speared onto shanks, Zevran sitting next to me and Talav on the other side of Algernon. Zevran handed me a quarter which I thanked him for before sinking my teeth into it. An explosion of delicious, chewy flavor rolled over my tongue as the blood soaked my mouth. I’d never had anything so delicious in my entire life before, not even when that one really nice guard had given me a raspberry pastry. 

“Backstory not going as well as you’d hoped, eh?” Talav chortled, ripping a large chunk of meat off his flank. “I guess telling someone they’re training for the Crows is a lot easier than telling someone they’re part of a missing order of crazy half-people that ride dragons.”

“WHAT?!” Zevran shouted, nearly dropping his meal. His eyes were practically bugging out of his head.

“No, I’m not! It’s not me, it can’t be!” I argued, frowning at the lot of them. 

Algernon had apparently found what he was looking for and produced an object that at first glance appeared to be a simple hand mirror made of steel. Upon closer inspection however, I found that where the mirror should have been to show my reflection, there was a dark green, almost black surface, ridged ever so slightly, that gleamed with a metallic sheen. In the flickering light of the fire it almost seemed to change color, green to purple to gold, like an oil spill. Talav couldn’t be bothered with it, but Zevran and I were both craning our necks trying to get a better look at this mysterious trinket.

“Do you know what this material is?” Algernon asked, holding it out for us to touch. It was strangely cool, and we shook our heads. “This is a dragon scale. Specifically the scale of my drake.”

 _“Your...?”_ was all I could manage to stammer. He nodded. 

“When a drake has imprinted on you, it will give you a scale and a vial of its blood. The scale can be used to communicate with your dragon, no matter what distance separates you, and the blood is a reminder of who you are, that the blood of a dragon courses through your veins.”

“So you’re telling me that _this,_ ” Zevran interjected, pointing to my pendant. “Is a vial of dragon blood that belongs to the dragon that Skylar is going to learn how to ride? You’ve got to be joking.”

“Told you it was going to sound ridiculous,” Talav said through a mouthful. “You lot better get to eating or I’ll demolish it all myself.

He was right. Throughout the course of this ludicrous story Zevran and I had both abandoned our food, which hung limply from the bones we clutched in our hands. I think it was the first time we hadn’t vacuumed every scrap of food we were offered, though I’d been told that Zevran’s table manners were much better than mine. Hm, imagine that from a kid raised with a bunch of whores. 

“Bellatrix, are you there?” Algernon said to the mirror. It was only moments before the mirror replied with a booming voice that made Zevran and I jump. 

“I am. How goes your journey?” 

_Is that the dragon?_ Zevran mouthed to me, but I could merely shrug my shoulders with wide eyes as Algernon peered into the mirror and asked for a woman whose name I obviously didn’t recognize. A few seconds passed until he held the mirror to his chest and looked at me.

“This may startle you, but I believe it would be the best way to show you that what we’re saying is true. Here, take it,” Algernon said, holding it out to me.

When I took it, what I saw in the scales emerald reflection nearly made me drop the precious item. At first I thought it was doing what it was supposed to be doing: showing me my reflection. However upon closer inspection I found some subtle differences- brown eyes, a longer nose, a stronger jaw. The woman in the mirror appeared to be some sort of relative of mine- did it show the future? 

“S-Skylar?” a soft voice said. I blinked several times at the mirror, which was the source of the sound.

All of a sudden the scale went blood red, shaking ever so slightly as the sounds of a struggle ensued in the background. I saw a flash of scales and gauntlets clamoring against each other before the woman reappeared again.

“Sorry, that would be my partner,” the woman apologized, but I was still staring at her in awe. Something was starting to fall into place in my brain, but it just wasn’t possible. Or was it? “I can’t believe it’s you. I’m really looking at my own daughter, nearly grown.”

That was when I dropped the mirror, which was thankfully very sturdy although Algernon still looked at me with an expression of disbelief. I wasn’t paying attention, my mind had travelled far, far away, trying to wrap itself what I’d just seen and heard. Zevran, who had been looking at the mirror over my shoulder, was now staring at the side of my head just as thunderstruck as I felt. He didn’t have to say anything, it was far too obvious that he was thinking almost the same thing as I was. My mother, and a dragon. A real dragon, not trying to rip someone’s head off. My mother, the actual woman who birthed me. How was it possible?

“Perhaps that was a bit much a bit soon, hm?” Talav finally said, breaking the unbearable silence. “I’m going to go clean up dinner, and Algernon is going to help me out. Get to bed at a decent time you two, we’ve got a lot of traveling to do in the morning.”

“I’m sorry if I startled you. It seemed the only way to prove my point although it doesn’t seem as if you’re a believer quite yet,” Algernon apologized, putting the mirror back in his pack and standing up with a sympathetic smile. “We have a few weeks worth of travel ahead of us still, which will hopefully give you the time you need to adjust to the concept of your new identity.”

As he wandered off and Zevran finished the rest of my ram’s leg, I couldn’t have disagreed with the man more. This wasn’t my identity. This wasn’t me at all. This was all a wild and crazy dream, or some ridiculous scheme to get me out of Antiva without arousing the suspicions of the guards, or maybe I was about to join one of the dragon cults I’d heard the merchants whisper about every now and again in the market. The latter seemed to be the most sensible option, but Zevran wasn’t as much of a skeptic as I was.

“Are you excited?” he asked, though he looked taken aback when I turned on him with a horrorstruck expression. Honestly I was a little offended that he didn’t know better.

“Excited? Zevran have you been listening to _any_ of this?” I demanded, throwing my hands in the air. 

“Um, I believe so. Which is why I figured you would be excited. You love dragons! You get to go ride one, and be in some secret order of warriors, and get out of Antiva! This is what we’ve always wanted!”

“No, Zevran. This is what _you_ wanted,” I shot back severely. “I just wanted to not be a slave, to get out of town with my mother and my best friend and live a normal life where I didn’t get beaten for every minor infraction. I  had a mother. I had an identity. I had a home, and I was was pretty satisfied with those things the way they were!”

“So you’d rather go back to being a slave?”

“It’s probably a little different for someone who was raised with a bunch of whores, Zevran! Easy come, easy go, right? It’s not like you’ve ever had anyone who really mattered to you!” I snapped, and immediately regretted every word. I clapped a hand over my mouth “Oh Andraste. Zevran I’m so sorry.”

I should have known better than to expect him to get upset. I _should_ have expected him to get angry. Instead he did neither of those things. He simply made the most awful face I’ve ever seen him make in my life, turned on his heel before spitting, “They should have just cut your ears clean off,” and climbed into our tent without a look back. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. All I could do was blink at the spot he just stood while I spewed foul venom at him, and sink to the ground in defeat. He was right, they should have cut my ears off. I buried my hands in the dirt, cursing myself for yet another cowardly move. Only a coward would take out their emotions on the last dear person left in their life. Only a coward would say such nasty things to their best friend for no good reason. I was so ashamed that I wanted to sleep out in the dirt by the ghost of the fire. In fact, I was about to do just that when Talav poked his head out of the tent and looked at me with a curious expression.

“What are you doing, digging for grubs? Shoulda had more ram!” he laughed. “All jokes aside though, you might want to get some rest. Long day ahead tomorrow.”

I muttered an acknowledgement, something unintelligible, before gathering my pack and slipping into the tent that had been erected for Zevran and I. Trying to be as quiet as possible, though I really hoped he was still awake, I climbed into my linens and turned to face his back. Tension hung like knives in the air. I wished he would turn around and yell at me, sit up and shake me, something- anything. Finally after the silence became too much for me to bear, I whispered into the darkness.

“Zev? Are you awake?”

No response, though I swear I saw the tip of his ear twitch just the tiniest bit. I tried one more time.

“Zev, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m just upset and confused and I didn’t mean any of it, I swear.”

Still nothing. With a sigh I forced back my tears and bit my lower lip, inching ever so slightly closer to him to at least catch his scent. If I closed my eyes and pretended that he was cradling me to sleep, perhaps I would be able to get some rest. Regardless of my belief that my nerves would keep me up the entire night, I found that I wasn’t able to keep my eyes open. Whether it was from the hearty meal, the action of the day, all the walking or the unbelievable things I’d been told, I was utterly exhausted and eventually slipped off into a heavy slumber riddled with nightmares. All night I tossed and turned, throwing my covers off, wincing involuntarily, sweat dripping down my temple. I don’t know at what point it happened, nor did I ever get to realize it, but eventually Zevran rolled over wide awake. With a sigh he pushed my braid out of my face and tweaked his mouth in a sad way. Once he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him, the nightmares seemed to just fade away.

It was the foreboding feeling of loneliness that eventually woke me. My arms reached out in my sleep to wrap around Zevran only to grasp air. My eyes immediately snapped open and I sat bolt upright to look around- nothing. Clambering out of my bed roll as fast as I could, I crawled over the the tent flap and threw it open. A flickering fire and the impending dawn illuminated only Algernon sitting silently nearby and Talav’s tent was gone.

“Ah, you’re awake,” said Algernon cautiously. Too cautiously. 

“Where’s Zevran?” I demanded, scrambling to my feet and searching frantically for him. 

“Skylar, listen-“

“Where. Is. Zevran.”

This time it wasn’t a question. Algernon held his hands out pleadingly and if I hadn’t been so infuriated and panicked I would have felt bad for the fact that I hadn’t been treating him so kindly. The favor he was doing for me was great, but being the person to bear all the strange news certainly put him in an uncomfortable position. 

“He is gone,” came the reply.

“What do you mean he’s GONE? Talav said it would be a few more days before they went their own way!” 

Algernon sighed as the panic began to overtake my senses, gesturing calmly for me to sit down next to him. I ignored him, having absolutely no mind to be still and instead pacing around the camp like a frenzied animal.

“You must understand. Zevran is going to be trained to be an assassin for the famous Antivan Crows. His first lesson is to let go of everything from his past, which unfortunately includes you. The life of a Crow leaves no room for attachment.”

I felt as if I’d been run through with a sword, standing there in disbelief with my mouth hanging open. Algernon gave me time to collect myself but there was no collecting to be done as I raged about, looking for any semblance of closure, seeing if he was hiding in the bushes and this was all some sort of stupid prank of his. Was I mad that he had left, or was I mad about the terrible things I’d said to him before he left. Then I thought of the last thing he said to me and I thought my throat might close up from despair. _They should have just cut your ears clean off._ I balled my shaking fists up at my sides and resisted the urge to scream at the top of my lungs. I hadn’t been a day without Zevran since before I could remember, how could he just leave like this?

“He must have left a letter or something!” I insisted.

“I truly am sorry for everything that’s happened, Skylar. It’s in the codex, the way it’s always been: The first thing you must learn to be a Crow, is-“

“Easy come, easy go,” I whispered, wringing my wrists as my heart wrenched itself into a know. 

Then I looked down at my wrist and realized that my pink ribbon was gone. My stomach churned as I wished with all my might that it had found its way with him. I wanted to run down the road after them, though I didn’t doubt that they had probably left quite some time ago judging by the charred wood in the fire. Then, I wanted to run home, or perhaps straight into the river. I had never learned to swim. Yet as I thought all these awful, despairing things, Zevran’s face popped into my head, almost as if to reassure me (although he would have told me to pull a stiff upper lip and be tough about it). From that moment on I swore to be brave. Not to WANT to be brave, but to be truly, genuinely courageous. I quickly dried my impending tears, vowed I would see my best friend again, and began to pack my things in preparation for the rest of my journey. If Algernon was concerned, I was grateful that he did not say anything as we tore down the tent and set off into the sunrise.

 

We walked for about half the day before reaching the Free Marches, and another few days until the Waking Sea. Algernon wasn’t much for talking and I spent most of the time being depressed and staring at the ground. The only thing I really paid attention to was the aching in my heart and the thud of my feet against the dirt. Though I hadn’t the first clue about how to wield a weapon before, as we battle our way through the forests against wolves, bears and the occasional idiotic bandits (oh my!) I became much more proficient. The blades Zevran had given me were light and sharp, and sometimes if I focused hard enough I could still feel his hands wrapped around the grip. Eventually we approached the lapping shores of the Waking Sea and a massive port for boats of many sizes. I’d never seen a seafaring craft before and they were rather impressive, but it turned out that the boat we’d be riding in was less than grandiose.

“Have you ever been on a boat before?” Algernon asked conversationally as we reached the shanty boat that would jettison us into the sea. When I shook my head he continued. “it will take a few days to cross, but your mother and a small party will be waiting when we arrive.”

“My...mother?” I asked, suddenly confused.

“Right, my apologies. I forget that it might be difficult for-“

“It’s fine,” I lied suddenly, remembering my vow to be brave.

The truth was that it was not fine. I didn’t want a new mother, I wanted mine. I wanted the woman who had raised me and the woman that I knew, not someone I simply shared blood and a hair color with- however fantastic that blood may be. The boat ride wasn’t bad. I paid no mind to the sailors muttering “knife ear” as I passed or the passengers pointing and staring at my still bandaged ears. Though the pain had mostly subsided, they were still healing and so Algernon recommended I keep them covered. He also explained that Ferelden was much more dangerous- and racist- than Antiva and the Free Marches, which was why a party was to greet us at the docks when we arrived. Apparently there had been whispers of Darkspawn sightings in the South, though what Darkspawn were I wasn’t 100% certain myself. I had heard stories of them when I was a child, but that was all they were at the time. Scary stories about zombie creatures to get the kids off the streets and into bed at a decent time ‘lest the Blight consume them.

The boat ride wasn’t as uncomfortable as I imagined it would have been. The fisherman owed Algernon a favor apparently, and was more than happy to give us lodging in the few cramped but furnished passenger cabins he had. At first I thought I would simply spend the ride holed up in my bunk trying to avoid being sick, but eventually I went out for fresh air and found myself watching the crusty old fishermen bring in nets of large, powerful fish that often threatened to tip the tiny boat. After a day of so of standoffishly spectating I was invited to help pull in a net, and actually found it to be welcome relief from thinking myself into sorrow.

I’m not sure what I expected when we hit Ferelden ground. I think I still hadn’t gotten used to the battle attire being ordinary dress, or the constant danger, or not waking up to guards screaming every day. I would never get used to not seeing Zevran. Regardless, the Dragonkin warriors were intimidating at the very least. Their armor came in every color and seemed to be fashioned from the same material as Algernon’s mirror which, from what I remember, he had said was dragon scale. The man leading was huge, and what I recognized to be called “Qunari.” I had seen very few of the Qunari people in Antiva but I had always been fascinated with their immense bulk and impressive horns. This man was no exception, with a deadly rack that extended back from his head. His face was painted, a mage’s staff was slung on his back and his hair was white as snow, giving him a savage, foreign look.

“I thought you said dragons were your partners,” I said quietly to Algernon as we approached them and I surveyed their armor.

“I also mentioned that we battle against dragons who oppose the existence of the Dragonkin. We use their scales when we can, or the scales of the dragonlings that didn’t make it to adulthood- a fairly common occurrence. The infant mortality rate is terribly high, mostly because they try to eat each other to prove which who is superior.”

I cringed and started to think that my opinion of dragons might be changing from awe to fear, before reminding myself that being scared of something new didn’t make me very brave at all. I pushed the thought out of my mind and focused on the group that was closing in fast, eager to greet us. As soon as they reached us they were clapping us on the back, looking us over and exchanging all sorts of happy “hellos” and “well mets.” I tried my best to accept the violation of my personal space and didn’t say much until...

“Maker’s breath... Skylar? It’s me, Aria.”

That was when I looked up and there she was, me in almost every way. Her hair was the same dark, rusty color as mine though it was pulled up in an elegant topknot. She was beautiful in a way that I only wished I could one day be, but her eyes were a dark brown as opposed to my steel colored ones, and the biggest dissimilarity of all was that she was undoubtedly...

“Human?” I said before I could stop myself, looking at her with surprise and amazement. I hadn’t seen her clearly enough in the mirror to tell, but at this point there was no missing the lack of tipped ears. 

“Yes. Your father was part of one of the Dalish clans,” Algernon answered as my mother knelt down to look at me.

“Sodding ancestors, you’re so beautiful,” she all but whispered, reaching out to touch me. When I backed away out of habit she pulled her hand back and nodded, apologizing quickly. “I understand. Not too fast then.”

“Skylar, it is good to meet you. I am Sarebaas,” the Qunari man said, and I could already tell that he was the type to only say as much as necessary. “You have already been acquainted with your mother Aria, and this is Cynder.”

I almost missed the last person he mentioned because the gentleman was so short, as were all Dwarves. Behind his bushy, braided beard he had an expressive face that smiled brightly when he was introduced. I muttered a “How do you do,” thankful for the continual lack of conversation as the last leg of my journey began. 

As we traveled South I kept as quiet as ever, preferring to listen to the conversations of the others to get to know them better. Algernon was much more lively not that he had been reunited with the others, so a part of me wondered if my constant brooding had caused him a great deal of trouble. Oh, who was I kidding? Of course it had. Just another log of guilt to throw on the fire I supposed, as I watched him argue about the sky with Cynder.

“But it’s _glorious!”_

“But it’s pointless.”

“Vitamin D is good for you!”

“So is not falling into the sky!”

“You can’t fall into the sky.”

“They said you can’t ride dragons either and here we are.”

“Gravity holds us down!”

“So do ceilings.”

“But torchlight is so dreary.”

“Yeah, and I’ve heard dying is a real hoot!”

Cynder was a member of the mining caste in Orzammar and apparently had only been away from it for a few months. Our first night at the campsite he told me about how his mother had been a Dragonkin topside, but when she became pregnant she wanted to give a natural birth in Orzammar and have her son be raised like a real dwarf. After his birth she had left Cynder and his father in Orzammar to rejoin the Dragonkin and upon coming of age, Cynder’s father had given him his pendant and a letter from his mother explaining everything.

“What happened to her?” I asked, curious to know more.

“Oh she’s still alive, the old hag. She and her damn deepstalker of a dragon are responsible for mealtimes and if you’re ever late she’ll never let you forget it. Still threatens to throw me in the sky over the time I got drunk and used her pheasant roast as pillow,” he huffed back, and everyone had a good laugh.

A few days later I began joining the conversations in several word intervals, and even found myself up late one night with Sarebaas on a watch. Neither one of us said a word to each other for the longest time until I finally awkwardly cleared my throat.

“I met another Qunari named Sarebaas once. He was a mage too, are you guys related?” I asked, not realized that this was a stupid question of course.

“Under the Qun we do not have names, as they are unnecessary words. We have titles. Mages are Sarebaas, or “dangerous thing” in Qunlat. That is my title.”

“Kinda nice not to have everyone get on your case for not talking much, huh?” I replied, though I wasn’t sure whether I was referring to him, or myself, or both.

“They do not. Our clan accepts that everyone is different, and they respect that Qunari prefer to only speak as much as needed.”

“Oh. So that’s how it’s always been for you then?”

He paused briefly, which made me assumed I’d bothered him by asking too many questions, but I was surprised when he responded just as calmly as before.

“Since joining the clan I have been more... relaxed about that practice, although that is strange to admit. Comrades are a common concept in the Qun, but friends are not.”

“You guys aren’t allowed to have friends?” I asked, a little confused.

“Creating unnecessary ties to other individuals is detrimental. When feelings are involved it complicates things, and the more people you have feelings for, the more inefficient you are.”

I didn’t really have much to say to that, because I completely agreed with the concept at this point in time. Would things have been different if I had never met Zevran? Despite the misfortune that had befallen me I still couldn’t imagine my life as a simple serving girl. Without Zevran I probably would have been beaten to death by now. At least now I didn’t have any “unnecessary ties.” I guess I didn’t mind being alone, but I didn’t want to be lonely. I didn’t expect Sarebaas to say anything else as I drifted off into deep though, so I jumped ever so slightly when he spoke again.

“I understand that you have recently lost someone you considered a friend.”

When he said it, it definitely threw me off. I hadn’t expected anyone to know about what had happened with Zevran, not to mention bring it up for conversation. To be honest I was a little flattered that the normally aloof Sarebaas was taking an interest in me and didn’t want to ruin it by saying something stupid. 

“Yeah. Yeah I did. He was my only friend.,” I replied. It was Sarebaas’ turn to look confused.

“I was under the impression that elves and other such creatures kept many friends, at the very least for personal entertainment.”

“When you’re raised where I was, there’s not really a lot of room for friendships or cavorting.”

“That is good then. The Qun believes that the warrior who has nothing to lose is the most powerful, for he fights without distraction or weakness in emotion. If you have lost all there is to lose, there is only yourself and the greater good that matters.”

I thought long and hard about his words for many nights. I guess in a way they never left me. Did I really have anything to lose? I supposed there was my mother back home, but it wasn’t as if any harm was going to come to her, especially now that I was gone. In a sad way it gave me a little bit of hope that I could focus on being a warrior without more misfortune coming my way. I had only the future to look forward to.

More days slipped away as I slowly got closer to the group, laughing and talking with them as normally as I would any of the other slaves back at Rialto. After avoiding her for most of the trip so far I even accepted Aria’s offer to change the bandages on my ears. Although that was going the be only thing I allowed, when my braid got caught in the tape I did not fuss when she untangled it, nor when she replaited it for me. We didn’t exchange any words during the entire time, but I think the gestures said more than we could have out loud.


End file.
